


my head's under water (but I'm breathing fine)

by infinitelymint



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (why are my tags always like this I'm sorry), Alternate Universe, BUT THAT MAKES IT SOUND A LOT MORE MACABRE THAN IT IS, Fluff, M/M, Soul Bond, also technically there's a near drowning, and a gunshot wound, and a near dying, and pirates, as in soulmates are a thing, because this is a fairytale, did I mention pirates?, it's really just a big ball of fluff, major happy ending I promise, mermaid au, so so so so much fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 14:23:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2153844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinitelymint/pseuds/infinitelymint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's a merman, Louis is a prince. Sometimes happiness can be found at the bottom of the sea.</p><p>(not a 'The Little Mermaid' AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	my head's under water (but I'm breathing fine)

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [My head is under water (but I'm breathing fine)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5229377) by [claveldelaire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/claveldelaire/pseuds/claveldelaire)



> Alright, so I debated for actual months if I should post this or not, but here I am...... hope you enjoy, I guess? x
> 
> All the thanks in the world to the brilliant and lovely [Nina](http://www.letswastetime-here.tumblr.com)  
> for betaing, to [ittybird](http://www.ittybird.tumblr.com/) for britpicking, and to my other [Nina](http://www.larry-newbie.tumblr.com/) for being my rock in stormy waters through it all. You're all much, much too lovely, and I'm so very lucky to have you in my life <3

[ ](http://imgur.com/Ezxk4jz)

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_my head’s under water (but I’m breathing fine)_ **

_“Because there's nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it's sent away.”_ _  
― Sarah Kay_

**_._ **

**_._ **

The sea is lovely. The sea is lovely, and wonderful, and beautiful. And blue. Blue is Harry’s favourite colour, he decided so yesterday. It was a tough decision, so many pretty colours to choose from; purple like his tail, green like the seaweed, orange like the starfishes. He has a starfish in his hair, its name is Petra, and he thinks she likes it there. She hasn’t moved at any rate, and Harry has given her plenty of opportunity to. He wouldn’t want to keep her against her will, that’d be terrible. He makes sure to feed her too, though he isn’t quite sure what starfishes eat. He puts out all his favourites for her, and hopes she might like some of it. So far she seems content.

He kind of wishes he could speak to her, the sea gets so lonely sometimes. The fish, and starfish, and all the crabs and mussels speak languages Harry doesn’t understand, if they even speak any languages at all. He isn’t too sure. Gemma always tells him he’s silly when he tells her that he’d love to talk with the other species of the sea. She wouldn’t understand anyway. Gemma is the born mermaid, the perfect mermaid. All pretty flowing locks and already with a mate. Content with the sea and filled with little curiosity. Harry shouldn’t be jealous, but somehow he is.

He speaks mermish, and luckily there are plenty of exciting merpeople living around him. He shudders to think about how he might have spent his entire life as one of the loners, forever swimming alone far away from the established mermaid colonies. That’s no life for him. He speaks English too, having had Zayn teach him in exchange for teaching him mermish. Zayn is special, as he was - unlike Harry - born without a tail. A rarity. Originally a human. Harry is _so_ hopelessly intrigued by the human world. Has always been curious, much too curious for his own good according to his mum, and the unobtainable world of humans is taunting him with seemingly endless amounts of knowledge and experiences he will never get to have.

Zayn can’t tell him much, he was only a young boy when he became a mermaid, so he remembers little of the human world and most of it has long since faded to distant memories. Now it’s all talk about houses that float on water – ships, Harry believes are their names – and legs and feet and toes.

It’s not that Harry doesn’t like being a merman, it’s not that he doesn’t like living in the sea, because he _does_. Loves it here, in fact. Loves the freedom and how pretty it is all the time. Loves the feel of the water against his skin, loves weaving seaweed into his hair and adorning it with pretty mussels. Loves spending his entire day swimming with no purpose, just exploring. Loves soaking up the sun on a rock, even if his body never colours like Zayn’s, until it’s dry and screaming for water, and his hair has dried to crispy, salty curls. Loves watching his tail shimmer in the sunlight, casting millions of nuances of purple light around him.

It’s not that he doesn’t like being a merman, it’s just that he’s so, so endlessly curious. It’s not that he wants to be human, legs don’t seem much fun when they can’t swim as fast as a tail, lungs seem vastly inferior to gills when he can no longer breathe under water. So no, it’s not that he wants to be human, but he wouldn’t really mind knowing more about what it’s like being one.

And then there’s the feeling. That feeling like he’s missing something, and he just can’t throw it away. He knows he’s a special case, he knows he’s old for not having a mate. He’s caught his mother looking at him with worry in her eyes many, many times. It’s not without reason either, he knows. He’s always known it, that the odds were stacked against him when it came to finding a mate. At least a true mate. It wouldn’t be such a big deal either, if there wasn’t that whole ‘soul mate’ thing. It’s just… the thing is, it sounds really nice, having a soul mate. Sounds really, fucking brilliant if he’s honest. Someone who just understands you, someone to connect with the very second you meet them, someone who feels like you’ve known them for years when you’ve only known them for minutes or hours, someone who loves you unconditionally for exactly who you are, and in the romantic sense, because he honestly doesn’t think his mum and his friends count.

So, yeah, the sea gets so lonely, even when he’s surrounded by friends and family, because everybody’s got someone. Everybody has someone but him. Zayn and Niall, Sophia and Liam, and just… just Harry. Just Harry alone, by himself. Lonely.

Because Harry is… his mother calls it special. Harry would just call it unfortunate, screwed over by life. A freak perhaps even.

The thing is, most merpeople’s tails are two colours. One for the main part, which has little significance except for usually being very, very pretty, and then another for the frills surrounding their waist. They’re almost translucent, but always, always the exact same colour as the mermaid’s mate’s eyes, the exact same nuance down to a t.

Harry’s frills are blue.

Blue like the sea when you look upon it from above.

Blue like the sky on a cloudless day.

Blue like no mermaid’s eyes have ever been.

Harry’s frills are blue, and merpeople don’t have blue eyes. Merpeople don’t have blue eyes, and Harry is destined to spend his life forever on his own.

He tries not to think about it too much, tries to focus on interacting with the fish and the crabs as best he can, on pondering what the human world is like, on figuring out new ways to braid the seaweed into his hair, and on how far out he can swim in a day before having to double back. He explores, he experiences what he can in the sea and he decidedly does not think about the fact that his frills are blue and there are no sea creatures with blue eyes.

 

x

 

Louis William Tomlinson, the fourth of his name, was born into a world of magnificence. A world of magnificence, aristocracy and privilege. He was born into a world of golden spoons and polite disinterest. He was born into a world void of freedom, filled with arranged, political matrimony and disdainful tolerance of those surrounding you. He was born into a world that he has never fit into. Could never, and would never.

He was born into a world where he, as the King’s youngest son, would be expected to marry Lady Eleanor, a daughter of an ambassador to one of the countries in the new alliance. He is expected to marry her, to father her children, to live with her in the name of peace for his realm, with no thought or consideration to how it would affect his personal life. He is expected to give up his life and his happiness for his father’s benefits. He is nothing but a chess piece in the giant game his father is playing with the other leaders and noble men of the world.

And maybe it’s selfish, and awful, and a terrible, terrible thing to do, but— _but_ Louis is a _person_ , Louis is a person too. First and foremost a person. He shouldn’t have to give up his life and his happiness, shouldn’t have to offer up his life to please others, to please greedy, power hungry noblemen. Shouldn’t have to enter a marriage to someone he knows he could never come to love – it’s neither fair to him nor to Eleanor.

So he had run.

In the darkness of the night, he had run. Snuck out of the castle when the guards were changing positions, snuck out of the castle and made his way to the port, the moon and stars that were twinkling in the sky above him served as the only source of light to him.

He’d made his way to the port and aboard the first ship he could find.

And that’s where he is now. On board of what has turned out to be a pirate ship. Right. This might not have been his most thought out plan after all. In all honesty this might potentially be the worst plan he’s ever had, and that’s saying something considering the fact that he once thought it smart to hide his father peace treaty to a country they’d been warring with for years, only to forget where he put it.

 _Right_.

So when he’s being hauled up from his hiding place by the neck of his shirt, a big, burly pirate with foul smelling breath and greasy, beaded hair, several teeth missing and a wooden leg, standing in front of him, _yeah_ , he quite thinks this must be the stupidest thing he’s ever done.

It absolutely does not help that they’ve been sailing for hours, are so far out of sea that he’s lost all sight of land. Brilliant.  Just fucking _brilliant_.

“Whaddya reckon we should do with this scum?” the burly guy asks, as the rest of the pirates are advancing, coming closer and closer to them like lions zooming in on their prey. Fuck, Louis is so, _so_ screwed.

“Let him walk the plank.” A cold, steely voice sounds from behind the group of pirates. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, buggering _shit_. Louis cranes his neck to see who it is that’s handing out his death sentence, but he can’t see anyone.

“Captain,” the one holding him says warily, “Perhaps we should just keep him? I’m sure he could make a good kitchen boy or—“

“No.” The pirates step aside, creating an opening in the middle of their assembly, like when Moses had separated the waters and opened a path for crossing. There, on the other side, is a man that’s perhaps the most frightening individual Louis has ever seen. He’s got a captain hat on, a mouth filled with golden teeth, and bloodshot eyes. He’s thin to the bone, but it seems more terrifying than sickly, like maybe he doesn’t eat at all, but feeds off the fear of his enemies. Louis is giving off so much fear, is terrified shitless, it must be a fucking feast for him. “He wanted a ride. Let’s see how long he can keep swimming. Butcher, get the plank ready.”

A plump guy to the captain’s right nods hurriedly, and scuttles off. Louis can’t believe this is it, that this is how his life is going to end. Can’t fucking believe it at all.

He should do something, should say something. He should try to reason, tell them who he is and hope that they’ll keep him alive to try to sell him for profit. Something, anything – he should literally do anything but stand there silently, looking at the captain with wide, terrified eyes.

For a moment the captain looks straight back at him, and it seems almost like a challenge. When Louis says nothing, the captain’s lips curl into an unpleasant smile, and he steps back into the cabin where he came from.

It could be minutes, or hours, or seconds, or days later that he’s being led to the edge of the ship, still every bit as mum as when the words had just been uttered, because… because he just can’t believe this is happening. Can’t believe that barely even twenty-four hours ago he was sitting in his bed in the castle, bored half to death and with the prospect of a political marriage he had little interest in looming over him, but at least he was alive.

He’d wanted adventure… he supposes he should have been more careful what he wished for, it wasn’t exactly this kind he’d had in mind.

 

It’s three steps. Three steps and then freefalling into the black, unforgiving water.

There’s a fairly long way down, maybe, if he’s lucky, the impact will render him unconscious, and he’ll never know that he’s drowning. If he’s unlucky, he’s going to stay awake, fight his way to the surface and tread water, attempt to swim to shore, until exhaustion drags him under, or a shark decides to feast on him.

It’s three steps, three small steps, and he’s falling.

For two terrifying seconds he’s falling, just falling, and all he can hear is the pirates’ cheers in the distance.

He’s just falling, the water coming nearer and nearer.

And then everything goes black.

 

x

 

It has been one of those days for Harry, one of those days where everybody was just caught up in their mate, wrapped up in their old world of communicating just with looks and wrapping their tails together, one of those days that just made Harry so, so sad.

On days like those Harry tends to swim away, swim far, far away, and that’s exactly what he did on this day as well. He’s quite far from home, not entirely sure exactly how far, because he’s been swimming wrapped up in his own thoughts, racing a few dolphins for a while until he got bored, and he’s just about to turn back when he sees something out of the corner of his eye.

Something that’s decidedly _not_ supposed to be this deep in the ocean. Something that has neither tail, nor fins, nor gills. No, not something. Some _one_. A human. A human with legs, and feet, and toes, and lungs that can’t breathe under water.

 _What_ in the ever loving Triton?!

Flipping his tail faster Harry hurries towards the human who is just sinking, sinking, sinking and Harry doesn’t understand. Why is he here? Why is he so deep in the water, and so far out? Why isn’t he trying to swim to the surface, to shore?

Harry should stay away. In every story Gemma has told him about humans and mermaids, the mermaids have been captured, and prodded at. And in some particularly gruesome tales even cut into pieces. So, yes, he should really, really stay away, but there’s something about this human that’s drawing him closer, that’s luring him here, and what if he’s not swimming towards the surface because he _can’t._ Oh, fuck, what if he’s dead? Or dying? What if he’s in the middle of drowning and Harry is doing nothing to save him?

He flips his tail even faster, catching the man in his arms just before he’d hit the bottom of the ocean, and swims to the surface as quickly as possible with the added weight. He breaks through the surface with the man, and it gives him, for the first time, the opportunity to _really_ look at him.

The first thing he registers is that he’s not breathing. He’s not breathing, there’s no air that passes into his lungs, and Harry panics. He just _panics_ , no logical thoughts involved as he pulls the man closer to his body out of instinct. He has no idea what he’s supposed to do, and for several seconds he’s just so fucking terrified, alone in the middle of the sea, a ship in the distance and a man in his arms. For several seconds he thinks that the first man he’s ever met is either dead or dying, is _dying_ in his arms and then—then the man coughs.

He coughs up water, so, so much water. It splatters all over Harry’s torso, while his tail continues flipping to keep them up. The man coughs, water drips from his lips, and he breathes. He breathes and so does Harry as he sinks down until the gills behind his ears are submerged, relief washing through him like a tidal wave. The man is breathing, is alive, but his eyes remain closed.

Harry cradles him against his chest. He’s small, smaller than Harry, though he looks at least Harry’s age or older. Not that Harry really has anything to base that assumption on, for all he knows human could age twice as fast or twice as slowly as merpeople. He’s got brown hair which is lying flat against his head, wet as it is, long strands sticking to his cheeks and neck. His lips are thin and have a purple tilt to them, whether from the amount of time he went without air or the coldness of the sea is difficult to say –  a combination, probably. His skin is tanned and smooth, a beard adorning his face, and Harry kind of wants to rub his own cheek against it to feel it scratch his skin. His eyes are closed, and thick long eyelashes are resting on the top of his cheeks. Harry is helplessly fascinated by them.

He’s beautiful, is the thing. So, so beautiful.  As he swims, Harry finds his eyes drawn to the sharp features of his face, the clear cut of his jaw and the high slopes of his cheekbones.

He’s got no real destination, just desperate to get the man to land, a place where he can dry off and get warm. So he swims. He swims, and he swims, and he swims until his arms are aching and his body is exhausted, the man’s added weight tiring him out faster than he’s ever experienced. He reaches a cave eventually and manoeuvres into it, heaving the man out of the water and onto the stone while staying in the water himself.

He should swim away, he should swim far, far away as fast as he possibly could, he should get away from there before the man wakes up and cut him into pieces and sells the scales of his tail. He should, he really, really should. But he can’t. Can’t make himself leave at all, because this man is the most stunning, mesmerising and breath taking thing he has ever seen, and Harry feels drawn to him like a shark to blood. He should leave, but he can’t, so he stays. He stays and watches as the man’s chest rises and falls in his sleep, watches until he himself drifts off to sleep, head pillowed in his arms as they’re resting on the floor of the cave where the man lies, the rest of Harry’s body submerged in the water.

 

x

 

Louis wakes up to burning lungs and a mouth tasting like salt and seaweed. He wakes up with no idea about where he is, or how he got there. He wakes up on cold stone floor, in a dark cave with water separating him from the exit, faint light shining through it like the sun is either rising or setting outside. It’s not until his second look around the place that he notices the boy. There’s a boy sleeping only a metre or two from him, most of his body in the water. From what Louis can see his torso is bare, pale skin almost translucent in the faint light in the cave. His hair is an absolute mess, a curly mess, but a mess none the less. It’s being held back by light green seaweed, various mussels adorning it as well. He looks almost supernatural to him, lips plump but more purple than red, skin so light that purple veins can be seen underneath, like he rarely gets sunlight at all.

He’s beautiful and terrifying all at once – otherworldly. He’s right there, and he must be who saved Louis, because he’s starting to assemble a recollection of what happened, and the last thing he remembers is a pirate ship, walking the plank, and then falling, falling, falling. The boy must have saved him, though Louis has no idea how that’s possible. They had been in the middle of the ocean, and there were neither land nor any ships nearby, and yet the boy somehow got him to this cave. It _must_ have been his work, there’s no other explanation. So. _So_ surely he can’t be dangerous if he saved Louis from drowning? Surely there’s nothing to be afraid of. Surely if he was to wake the boy – gently, of course – that would be totally acceptable, because when someone saved your life you should thank them. _Right?_

He edges closer, so, so curious, and he’s always been too curious for his own good, his mother said, but how could he not be when the world is filled with adventures? He edges closer, crawling on all fours until he’s perched in front of the boy, sitting on his knees as he takes him in up close. His curls seem stiff, like there’s too much salt in them now that they’ve dried, and Louis can’t help but reach out to touch one, feeling the stiff texture between his thumb and forefinger.

He’s barely touched the springy curl, though, when the boy startles away, and several things happens at once.

The boys’ eyes open, revealing beautiful green orbs, colour like moss on the ground of a forest, and everything good in life.

The boys’ eyes widen in shock upon seeing Louis, shock and panic, and he pushes away from the stone he’s been resting his arms and head on, back into the water and away from Louis.

The boys glides through the water with his back to it and his front facing Louis, and he sees it, sees it only seconds before it breaks through the surface of the water with a force that drenches Louis in cold seawater. Sees it, sees what he never thought was real, never believed to exist.

He wanted adventure and he got it. He sees the boy and his tail. The boy _with_ a tail.

He sees a merman.

 

x

 

Harry notices the very moment the boy spots his tail, even through the dim light of the cave and the now several metres between them. Sees the second the boy’s eyes connect with the purple, shimmering scales of his tail, sees as he barely recoils when Harry accidentally splashes him with water in his haste to get away, frozen in place in apparent shock. Sees it in the way the boy’s eyes widen almost comically, the way his mouth falls open slightly, and the way his arm moves to clutch his heart.

Harry really, really ought to swim now, swim as far away as possible, because the boy has seen him, and only Triton knows what he might do to Harry if he captures him, and here in the water Harry can surely outswim him, but—but he stays.

He stays, and he could never say why except for the fact that there’s just _something_ about the boy in front of him that tells him swimming away now would be the biggest mistake of his life.

“No wait!” the boy gets out, words echoing in the cave like his very own backing choir. “Wait,” he repeats, softer this time, his arms thrown up, palms facing towards Harry in a sign of no harm intended. “Please,” he adds, and Harry stills in the water, tail flipping gently to keep him up.

“You’re—“ the boy starts, seeming to be unable to put his thoughts into words. “You’re—I mean, you… I—you’re…”

Harry cocks his head to the side, curious, unable to keep a small smile off his face.

“—a mermaid.”

“A merman, really, if we’re being technical,” he shrugs, fighting to keep the smile from widening on his face. He should really not be smiling at the person who might be about to sell him for parts, but he’s _Harry_ and there’s a _human_ in front of him and just… he can’t really help it. “You’re a human,” he states.

The boy seems to recover from his shock just enough to offer Harry a crooked smile. “Solid observation that, mate.”

Harry does crack a full smile at that, and contemplates swimming just a little bit closer for several moments before doing so, though he remains out of arms reach from the boy.

The boy takes a tiny step back when Harry approaches, and doesn’t even seem aware of it. Harry can’t help but frown, surely out of the two of them he’s the one who has something to fear, it’s not like Harry would ever dream of doing anything to him.

Harry opens his mouth and asks the question that’s been on his mind since the boy, who _seems_ so harmless, woke up. Coincidentally, at exactly the same time, the boy asks a question of his own.

“Are you going to chop me to pieces?”

“Are you going to drown me?”

And then there’s silence for just a few moments, both of them staring at each other in shock and bewilderment before their voices are heard simultaneously once more.

_“What?”_

“Is that what you think?” Harry asks after several seconds where neither of them seems to know what to say. “That I’d try to kill you?”

“Well, isn’t that what you apparently think I will do to you?” the boy counters, and, well, alright, he does have a point. “No offense, mate, but I didn’t even know mermaids existed until now, and I’m pretty sure all the stories say that you lure sailors to their deaths and drown them.”

“You were drowning when I found you, though,” Harry tells him quietly. “I saved you.”

It takes the boy a few moments to answer, and then he nods, just a small inclination of his head. “Yeah, you did,” he scratches his neck and shrugs sheepishly. “Thanks for that, by the way. Appreciate it, you know. Erm, I guess it would be kind of counterproductive for you to drown me now…”

“I should think so,” Harry agrees, “You were quite heavy to swim that long with, it would’ve been much easier to just let you drown.”

The boy frowns for a moment and then cracks a small smile. “Are you calling me fat?”

“No!” Harry’s eyes widen at the boys’ words, because no, just _no_. The boy is beautiful, is so, so beautiful. He tells him so, because why shouldn’t he? “You’re beautiful.”

Something funny flickers over the boys’ face for just a moment, and then he takes a tentative step closer. “If I get in the water,” he starts, voice hesitant, “You promise you won’t try to drown me?”

Harry nods eagerly, strangely excited about the prospect of the boy joining him in the water. “Yes, yes, I promise.” He holds out his hand to shake the boy’s, because Zayn once said that people did that when they made promises.

The boy looks at his hand funnily for a moment, before taking it. “You’re cold,” he states, once their skin makes contact, and, yeah, it’s not something Harry normally notices about himself, his body is the same temperature as the ocean after all, but in contrast to the boys’ skin he’s practically ice. He’s slippery too, wet where the boy is dry and soft, fingers still pruned slightly from his long time in the water. “I’m Louis.”

It takes Harry a few moments to understand that the boy just told him his name and not just using some obscure English word Zayn’s never taught him. The name sounds funny in Harry’s head, would probably sound even funnier on his tongue, he’s never met a merman named Louis.

“Harry,” he says once he’s gotten over the initial confusion. “I’m Harry.”

The boy smiles, before slipping off his vest and shirt, and sitting down on the edge of the cave’s stone floor. “Harry…” he says the name like he’s tasting it, looking at Harry curiously. “Humans can be named Harry as well.”

“Oh,” Harry isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say to that. “Were you expecting something more… sea-ish? Like, should I’ve been named Aqua or Octopus or something?”

The boy giggles, actually giggles, and slides into the water opposite Harry, his entire body being submerged, head included. “I like Harry just fine,” he states once his head’s popped up again. He hesitates for a moment, then, “So, uh, you’re a mermaid—mer _man_?”

Harry thinks it comes out as more of a question than a statement, though there really can’t be much confusion about that. He lifts his tail closer to the surface in reply, lips curled into a smile.

“Yup,” he states simply, as the boy, _Louis_ , eyes are glued to his tail, completely in awe. He raises his hand, and then stills it, quickly plunging it back into the water like he suddenly realised what he was about to do. Harry cocks his head curiously. “Would you like to touch it?” he asks politely, raising his tail further so it breaks through the surface of the water, droplets lying on the shiny scales.

“Uh,” Louis says, eyes flickering from Harry’s tail to his face in question. “Is that—I mean, would that be okay? I don’t, like, I mean, I don’t want to intrude on your privacy or anything?”

Harry frowns in confusion, “I wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t okay.” He states. “You can touch it if you like.”

Louis still looks unsure, but he nods nonetheless, raising his hand out of the water once more and tentatively leading it towards Harry’s tail. The moment his skin makes contact with Harry’s scales, Harry almost gasps out loud. It’s the strangest sensation, and it’s not exactly that Harry’s foreign to people touching his tail. It’s just like… it’s almost like it’s so much more when it’s Louis, _because_ it’s Louis, like his touch is more than everyone else’s. It seems Louis can feel it too, big eyes coming to meet Harry’s in shock, hand still lying on Harry’s purple scales.

Curious, Harry extracts his tail and turns in the water, so that he’s not floating on his back but can swim closer to Louis, close until he’s right in front of him, chests and noses, every body part they both possess really, only centimetres apart. Louis looks frozen in shock, and Harry looks deep into his eyes. So deep that it takes him several seconds to realise what he’s seeing.

Louis’ eyes are blue.

 _Blue_.

Blue. Exactly and precisely the colour of Harry’s frills right down to the last pigment. Louis eyes are blue, _Harry’s_ blue. _Shit_.

He can’t help but wonder if Louis would have ruffles that were green like Harry’s eyes if he were a merman, and what colour the rest of his tail would be? He can’t help but wonder how Louis would take to living in the sea. He can’t help but wonder how he was mated with a _human_. It’s like the universe wanted to play a giant joke on him, like ‘hey, you thought you would never find a mate? Well guess what, here he is, but you still can’t have him because he’s human, hahaha’ – yeah, thanks _a lot._

“You have blue eyes,” he states dumbly, because the shock is still sticking to his body, clinging to his skin like honey. He’s not sure he’s ever going to recover from it, because, _fuck_ , he’s always thought he was going to end up alone, and now he finds that all along his partner was to be found on land, his soul mate is a _human_. He’s not sure what is worse to be honest, he’s doomed either way.

Louis blinks confusedly at Harry’s observation. “I do,” he states. “Am I like… not supposed to?”

Harry’s eyes widen because that’s not what he meant at all, and, really, if he has to be mated with a human, he’s kind of glad that it’s Louis. He doesn’t know him at all, has barely had a proper conversation with him, but he already likes him so much. He supposes that’s what finding one’s mate is like.

“No,” he insists, hand coming up to grab Louis’ shoulder by instinct, and miraculously the other boy doesn’t recoil despite the surprising touch. “No, not at all. It’s just… I’ve just never met anyone with blue eyes before.”

Louis frowns, his brow knitting together, creating the cutest disgruntled expression. Harry is hopelessly endeared, and maybe even a little bit in love. “Merpeople don’t have blue eyes?”

“Never.” Harry confirms. “No. Never.”

“That’s odd, it’s pretty common for humans.” He says is so casually, but it nearly ends up giving Harry a heart attack.

Harry’s suddenly hit with the need for Louis to know, for Louis to feel what Harry feels, because there might be a world of blue-eyed people out of the sea, but Harry knows, _knows_ with every fibre of his being, that Louis is the one who is his mate. He wants him to know, but how do you tell someone something like that? What’s the protocol when your mate maybe doesn’t even know the concept of mates exists? And does it even -- for humans, that is? Because, well, maybe Louis is Harry’s mate, but Harry isn’t Louis and what would that even mean?

“Can I…” he starts, looking at Louis carefully. “Can I show you something? Tell you something?” Louis’ face softens, like he picks up on the fact that Harry is genuinely worried.

“’Course you can.” He smiles at him, and the knot in Harry’s throat loosens slightly.

He nods briefly, and then swims around Louis to the stone floor of the cave, gripping the edge and hoisting himself up using the strength of his arms. Once he’s seated, the bottom of his tail with the fins the only thing still submerged in the water, he lifts his head to look at Louis, whose eyes are glued to Harry’s tail, seeming unable to look away, like it’s simply impossible for him to get used to the fact that Harry is a merman. He supposes he can sort of sympathise since Louis never knew about his species’ existence until barely an hour ago. He can only imagine how discombobulated he’d feel if he suddenly saw someone with legs if he’d lived his entire life without knowing they even existed.

“See these?” he asks quietly, fingers running over the blue ruffles surrounding his waist. He waits for the small nod of acknowledgement coming from Louis before continuing. “The colour of a mermaid’s ruffles are always the colour of their mate’s eyes.”

“Their mate?”

“Soul mate.” Harry clarifies.

Louis hesitates for a moment, then, “But mermaids don’t have blue eyes?”

“No.” Harry whispers, and it’s almost funny how Louis is the one in the water and Harry is the one on land. “No, they don’t.”

Louis is silent for several moments before he speaks tentatively. “I don’t understand…”

“I never thought I would find a mate, you know? ‘Cause no one has blue eyes, so I just thought I was destined to be by myself forever or something—“

“But soul mates don’t exist.” Louis protests meekly.

Harry shakes his head and slips back into the water, swims closer to Louis, so close that they’re almost touching. Louis doesn’t back away. “They do.”

“No,” Louis protests, “No. Look Harry, I get that you must live in some fairy tale world on the bottom of the sea where you get to live with your one true love for the rest of time, but up here in the real world there’s no such thing as soul mates. There’s not, Harry, there’s just _not_ , I—“ he grows increasingly agitated as he speaks, seeming frustrated that he can’t word his thoughts properly.

“I’m engaged to be married.” He states finally. Harry’s heart nearly stops beating, that’s what it feels like anyway. “And, Harry, even if I wasn’t we’re not— we can’t be— _we’re not soul mates_. We don’t even know each other, and—and you’re a merman, and I’m not, and—it just wouldn’t work.”

Harry draws back, and his chest physically hurts, a deep ache seeming to come from his very core. He sinks further into the water, until only his eyes and the top of his head are visible. He feels like his broken heart has just mended upon the discovery of Louis, only to break into even tinier pieces moments later.

He’s found his mate, but his mate doesn’t want him.

His mate wants someone else.

 

x

 

Louis feels awful, and surely any minute now Harry’s going to swim away, is going to leave him here in this cave by himself, is going to leave Louis and he will never get to see him again. The thought hurts more than it ought to considering they’ve only just met. Louis feels _awful_. He can only see Harry’s eyes underneath a mop of hair and seaweed and mussels (and is that a _starfish_?), but it’s awful all the same, his eyes shining with hurt, and sadness, and so much more Louis wishes he will never have to see there again, much less be the reason for.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice softer this time, and tentatively he reaches his hand through the water to cup Harry’s naked hip. “I’m so sorry, love. I—I don’t know you at all, but it feels a bit like I have all my life.” He laughs self-deprecatingly, because what is he even _thinking_? God, it might be true, but that doesn’t make it any less silly. He draws in a big breath, and continues, “In my world, there are no soul mates. My father arranged my marriage to help keep peace for the realm; marriage is nothing more than a political tool used to succeed. God, I—I _wish_ I could be your mate, Harry, because you seem _lovely_ , and so sweet and kind,” and like someone I could actually love, he thinks, but doesn’t dare say, because he’s got this half fish, half boy in front of him with too big eyes, earnest and shining with tears, and he doesn’t want to hurt him any more than he already has.

“That’s what it’s like finding your mate, Louis,” Harry whispers, having raised his head just enough for his mouth to come out of the water. “Feeling like you’ve known me all your life even though we’ve just met, it’s _exactly_ how soul mates are supposed to feel upon meeting each other. It’s exactly how I feel about you.”

“Harry…” Louis says, and he hears how strangled his voice sounds, because he wants to believe it, wants to believe it so bad, but it’s _impossible_. And even if it were possible it doesn’t matter because at the end of the day he still has two legs and Harry has a tail and neither of them can live where the other does. It would never work.

“Let me prove it to you,” Harry suddenly murmurs, breaking Louis out of his thoughts. “Please. Let me prove that we’re soul mates.”

And Louis doesn’t even actually get to think about it before his head is nodding just slightly on its own accord, and then Harry is sliding closer. The way he moves in the water is mesmerising, so in control of every little movement, gliding through it when all Louis ever seems to do is flail. There’s something so undeniably graceful about Harry in the water, like it just bends to his will, helps him do whatever he wants to in it.

His hand instinctively tightens around the soft flesh of Harry’s hip where it’s still resting, as Harry’s torso raises from the water until they’re eye to eye. For a second he just looks at Louis, eyes a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. Then Louis feels something around his legs, and he nearly screams and jerks away until he realises that it’s Harry’s tail, that the other boy has wrapped his tail around Louis’ legs in a vice like grip. It feels heavy, and Louis knows that he would be powerless to do anything if Harry were to drag him underwater, his human body no match for the strength just packed in Harry’s tail, much less his entire body combined.

There’s still a part of him terrified that this was all an act, that the folklores really did speak the truth when they said that mermaids seduce sailors and then drown them, because this might be a really intricate seduction plot from Harry (maybe he was bored of the good old ‘bat-your-eyelashes-until-they-follow-you-into-the-sea’ and wanted a bit of a challenge, it’s perfectly plausible, thank you very _much_!). He can’t really rule it out, can he? Either way, if Harry wants him dead he’s as good as, won’t be able to do anything to protect himself from the merman.

He’s not looking at Louis like he wants to kill him though, which Louis supposes is something. He’s looking at Louis like he actually might be the one who’s scared, though what kind of threat he could possibly pose to him, Louis will never understand.

The next thing he feels is Harry’s cold hand on his cheek, though their body temperatures aren’t far apart now that Louis has spent so long in water. He feels dumb standing there, Harry’s tail wrapped around his legs, one hand cupping Harry’s hip, fingernails digging into soft flesh, the other hanging limply by his side.

It’s like he simultaneously knows what Harry’s about to do and doesn’t believe it will happen at all. Doesn’t even let himself believe it’s what’s about to happen, even as Harry leans in, even as his face gets closer and closer to Louis’, so close that he nearly goes cross-eyed trying to keep Harry in focus. Barely even believes it when he actually does feel Harry’s cool lips against his own.

Somehow, if he’d been allowed time to mull it over, he’d have thought that kissing a merman would be different from kissing any of the humans he has, and it _is_ in a sense, but Louis suspects that’s more because it’s Harry and less because he’s a merman. Harry could probably have been an octopus and it would still be the best kiss of Louis’ life.

His lips are plumper than Louis’, but they slot together like they were carved from the same stone, meant to fit, two pieces of a puzzle. They’re cool and they taste like the sea, but it doesn’t bother Louis, and with the amount of water he swallowed when he nearly drowned, his mouth must taste the same anyway.

For a moment he’s just still as Harry’s lips move over his, and then Harry’s sharp teeth nibble on his bottom lip, and that’s all it takes to break Louis out of his stupor and get him to kiss back. He moves his lips insync with Harry’s, moves his limp arm to trade through his hair, getting his fingers tangled in the mess of half-dry curls and seaweed. He fastens his grip, closing his fingers around crisp hair and holds on. Harry whimpers into his mouth, and his lips part slightly, just enough for his tongue to meet Louis’ and from thereon out, it’s pretty much like all bets are off. There’s no hesitation in their kisses anymore, little softness left. It’s all passion, raw, burning passion that tears through Louis’ body like liquid fire. He grips Harry’s hair tighter, slides the other hand from its place on his hip to the small of his back to draw Harry closer, and Harry winds his tail tighter around Louis bringing them impossibly closer together, and his arms roam freely over Louis’ chest and back.

As far as proving they’re soul mates goes, it’s just a kiss. It’s just a kiss, but it’s like something in Louis just feels right. Like every fibre of his being just feels right, like the stars align, and the angels sing and everything is just _good_ and _right_. Harry is all he needs to be happy, impossible as it is. Harry is all he needs, all he will ever need, like food, and water, and sunlight, and even air is insignificant as long as he has Harry.

Eventually they break apart, both of them panting heavily, and Louis just… he can’t believe what has happened to him. Forty-eight hours ago he was sat in his room in the castle, bored and angry and fucking miserable because the date of his wedding had been set, and now… now he’s been on board a pirate ship, has been made to walk the plank, has drowned and been saved by a merman, had found out that said merman is actually his soul mate, and just… _goodness_.

Harry is still wrapped tightly around him, and though Louis would never have suspected it, he quite likes the rough feeling of Harry’s tail’s scales against his own soft skin. He can feel the ruffles too, the ruffles that apparently determine that they’re meant for each other. They’re soft, like silk, or maybe velvet more like, soft against his lower tummy, fluttering in the water. Louis wants to touch them, wants to run his fingers over them gently, perhaps even plant small closed mouthed kisses on them, but he’s not sure he’s allowed, not sure where the boundaries are.

Every single trepidation he had before the kiss has been washed away with one of the waves from the sea. And it’s all sorts of ridiculous he knows, because it’s not like his concerns have been made any less valid, but the feel of Harry’s lips against his has convinced him that nothing else could be more important than somehow staying with Harry, like being separated from him might cause him physical harm.

He moves his arms gently, sliding his hands to rest on Harry’s toned pecs, looking into the merman’s eyes, unsure of what to say, how to express how he feels, because he shouldn’t be feeling like he is, shouldn’t be feeling this strongly for a man he doesn’t know much about apart from the fact that his name is Harry and his tail is purple (fuck, he has a _tail_ ).

Harry moves his own hands to hold Louis’, gently unwrapping his tail from around him, and then just… _tugs_.

Tugs Louis’ hands with enough force to pull him under the water with him, and for two terrifying seconds Louis believes that Harry really did play him, betrayed him, that Harry just tugged him under the water to drown him. For two second only and then he feels it as Harry’s intertwines their fingers, and his eyes open under water, having closed on instinct when he was tugged down. He opens them, and he sees Harry in front of him, and it’s the first time he _really_ gets to see him as a proper merman, gets to see his body in full and underwater.

It’s a magnificent sight,his tail curving majestically, fins gently flipping in order to keep him upright. The ruffles flutter in the water, encasing him in cerulean blue, the effect stunning in the already blue water, like it somehow makes them glow extra bright. They’re almost luminescent here. His tail merges into his upper body seamlessly, and it’s ludicrous to think that it’s not exactly how it’s supposed to be. It’s long and lean, his torso, chiselled finer than the sculptures Louis has seen on a daily basis in the castle. It’s almost like he’s been created in the human image, only made a thousand times better, like someone has looked upon a human body and then created Harry, only enhancing every feature, making him a hundred times more beautiful than any human Louis has ever seen. He wonders if all merpeople possess such otherworldly beauty, and if maybe that’s where the legends about them luring seamen to their death stem from.

Under water, Harry is in his element, hair fanned out around him like a makeshift crown, and it’s fitting, really, because in Louis’ mind he might as well be King of the Sea. Under the water, Harry is the very best version of himself, he’s a version Louis could never see of him on land, he’s more, so much more, and Louis feels lucky, feels privileged to get to see it.

He wishes he could be like Harry, wishes he could call the sea his home like the boy before him, wishes he could have the whole ocean as his home, the freedom to swim where he wanted with this boy by his side.

The thought comes out of nowhere, unprompted, really, and he finds that he’s never wanted something more. He’s also never wished for anything more impossible, and it breaks his heart that they are doomed from the very beginning. Doomed even before they met, doomed from the very second Harry was born with blue ruffles to match Louis’ eyes.

Harry lets go of his hands, giving Louis the opportunity to return to the surface, no longer making sure that he doesn’t float upwards. He’s not ready though, not ready to let go of the ethereal vision that is Harry, he still has air left in his lungs, even despite the surprise of being hurriedly submerged. He’s going to stay here, underwater with Harry, until his insides burn, his lungs scream for air, until he can’t possibly stay any longer.

He’d stay here forever if he could.

He grips Harry’s wrist with one hand, keeping him from floating to the surface, and pulls himself closer to Harry. He looks into the other boy’s eyes questioningly before reaching out his free hand and to gently skim it over the ruffles.

Harry’s eyes flutter closed, and his mouth falls open under water, and Louis takes that to mean it feels good to him. He gets bolder, moving his thumb to stroke the line where Harry’s torso connects to the ruffles and tail, applying more pressure than he first dared. Harry’s head is thrown back, his throat bared and his eyes remain closed. He’s letting out these small whimpers that are like music to Louis’ ears. It startles him at first, because he’s quite forgotten that of course Harry would be able to speak under water.

When it becomes an absolute necessity, he regretfully removes his hands from Harry’s body and kicks upwards until he breaks through the surface, taking in big gulps of air in order to satisfy his burning lungs.

 

x

 

Harry remains in the water even after Louis has resurfaced, body still trembling from the sensations he’d just felt. The feeling of Louis’ touch, his skin on Harry’s ruffles was unlike anything he has ever experienced, and he can still feel how pleasure thrums through his body, how it makes every single one of his nerves tingle in the very best way he’s ever experienced.

He doesn’t understand what it is Louis does to him, and yet he does, yet he understands it so completely. Louis is his mate, and all these things he’s feeling with every touch, with every look, with every breath they draw in each other’s vicinity, is just Harry getting a glimpse of what he’s been missing out on all these years he’s been alone. Having to give it up now would be the cruelest fate imaginable.

He flips his tail once, just forceful enough to pivot him towards the surface, breaking through it directly in front of Louis. He can’t help but wrap his tail around the boy again, revelling in the feel of his scales against the smooth, bare skin of Louis’ calves, his trousers only making it to his knees.  His move pulls Louis’ closer, the human falling into Harry’s chest gracelessly, and Harry laughs breathlessly, getting out an “Oops,” through the wide grin his face has morphed into.

The feeling of their bare chests against each other makes Harry’s heart flutter, and when Louis mutters a soft “Hi,” it definitely doesn’t help matters.

 

x

 

“What colour tail do you think I would have if I was a merman?” Louis asks later, after what’s probably a few hours, but might as well be minutes. Harry seems to have no concept of time when he’s with Louis. It seems almost insignificant when he wishes to spend every second of the rest of his life with the human. They’ve been talking, just talking, and Harry already feels as though he’s known Louis all his life. He knows so much about him – small things, big things, and every bit is equally significant in his humble opinion. Louis is an enigma. Fascinating and beautiful, brilliant and clever. He can keep up with Harry (or maybe it’s more the other way around), and it’s a connection unlike anything either of them have ever tried. It’s as if they’re made for each other. Then again, Harry is pretty sure they are.

He is in the water and Louis is sitting at the edge of the cave’s stone ground. The question startles him, because it’s such a dangerous territory, thinking about Louis as a merman, it’s something that Harry wants more than anything, but simultaneously knows is never going to happen. Thinking about it is the sweetest kind of torture.

He shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant, like this really is the first time the idea has occurred to him. “I don’t know…” he replies with a small smile. “Maybe orange? Because you shine like the sun?”

It’s mostly a joke, but he can see it, can see Louis with a brilliant orange tail, or with scales like shimmering gold, or maybe even a purple tail like Harry’s, or deep blue like the bottom of the sea. He can imagine so many colours, that would look gorgeous against Louis’ smooth skin. There are so many options, but there is one thing that remains the same throughout all the images, one thing that Harry always pictures as the same. Louis’ ruffles. Louis’ ruffles would be green like Harry’s eyes. They _would_.

Louis hums in recognition, but otherwise remains uncharacteristically quiet. Harry peers up at him from between his legs, elbows resting comfortably on his thighs. Louis moves one hand to twist a stand of Harry’s hair, which is starting to curl as it slowly dries.

“Harry?” he says eventually, quietly, and for once Harry seems unable to read him. “How do you become a mermaid?”

Frowning, Harry peers up at him properly, but Louis won’t meet his eyes. “Well, you don’t become one, Lou,” he says, cocking his head sideways, a small smile playing on his lips. “You’re born one.”

Louis hesitates once again, drawing in a deep breath before continuing. “But you can’t like… there’s no way for, like, a human?”

And suddenly Harry realises where Louis is going with this. His heart constricts in his chest, it hurts, hurts, hurts, beats faster and faster. “Louis…” he says, trails off, _warns_.

“Surely you aren’t all born mermaids, are you?” Louis presses, finally looking properly at Harry. His eyes are wild, hands falling to grasp his bare shoulders tightly. “Harry?”

“Only a few used to be human…” he says carefully, “Like, very few, Lou. It doesn’t happen very often—“

“But sometimes it does?” Louis interrupts him eagerly, and Harry knows where this is going, knows exactly where this is going and it’s like riding a train with a broken break heading for the precipe. There’s nothing he can do, nothing he can do except stay and watch it as it crashes on the ground.

“Sometimes,” he gets out reluctantly. “Yeah.”

“Harry,” Louis groans, obviously frustrated. “Come on… is it like if you drown? If you die at sea?”

“Loads of people die in the sea every day, Lou,” Harry evades, wishing he could just do something, do anything to get Louis to drop it. “None of them become mermaids.”

“ _How_ then? Just tell me, please.” And he looks at Harry so earnestly, even has the smallest of pouts on his face, and Harry just gives in, because, really, he never stood a chance at all.

“If you’re dying, a mermaid’s kiss can save you.” He states it, simple as it is, and at the same time so, so complicated.

Louis snorts, nearly laughs, but his face morphs into a frown when he sees that Harry isn’t joking. “That’s… that sounds like something from a story my grandmother would tell.”

Harry shrugs, because he can’t really do much about the truth, now can he? “Well... I’m not quite sure how it works,” he starts, even though it’s not quite the truth. He does know how it works fairly well, has heard a first rate account from both Zayn and Niall, though Zayn, of course, doesn’t really remember it, and they were so young anyway, it wasn’t quite standard procedure with them.

“My mum said there is loads of, like, restrictions to it? Like it doesn’t always work. The human would have to be in the sea first off, and there has to be a connection between the mermaid and the human, you can’t just turn random people, you know? It doesn’t work that way. So it doesn’t happen very often... _I_ only know one merman who used to be a human.”

“So… when I was drowning…” Louis starts, and then trails off, like he’s unsure how to ask. Harry understands, though, understands exactly where he’s going.

“It honestly didn’t cross my mind.” he admits, because it hadn’t. Not even for a split second. “Like, you were just a human drowning at sea, Lou, and a turning happens like once every century or so, and I’d never seen you before, you weren’t really anything to me, it just… it didn’t even cross my mind.”

Louis nods, like he understands, and he moves his hand to rest on top of Harry’s squeezing it gently. “But you could… you could turn me? Now, I mean. You could turn me now?”

“No.” the word leaves Harry’s lips immediately, no hesitation at all. His voice is hard, steely, and Louis physically recoils, removing his hand from Harry’s in shock.

“I—“ he says, voice sounding almost fragile.

“No, Louis.” Harry interrupts him, softer this time. “No, just, you’d have to be _dying_ , Lou, and what if it wouldn’t work? What if I mess it up, or we don’t have the kind of connection it takes. I’m not risking that, I’m sorry. Just, I couldn’t… I can’t, I—“ and it’s not that he doesn’t think they have the connection, he _knows_ that Louis is his mate without the shadow of doubt, even if their situation is unconventional and controversial. But if for some reason, it didn’t work he’d lose Louis, _actually_ losehim _,_ and there is nothing that will ever make it worth that risk. Nothing.

Louis grabs his face, his hands cupping each of Harry’s cheeks and he draws him in for a lingering kiss. It effectively stops Harry’s ramble, and he feels almost adrift when Louis finally releases his lips. “It’s okay,” he says, stroking his thumb down Harry’s cheek. “It’s okay.”

 

x

 

It takes him a while and a lot of kisses to calm Harry down after that, though Louis can’t say he minds. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t slightly disappointed though, and it’s not really because of Harry’s reaction - he knows that it isn’t that the merman doesn’t want Louis to become like him - but more the fear of something going wrong.. It’s understandable, especially considering that something going wrong actually means that Louis would die.

He kind of thinks he probably shouldn’t be so flippant about the prospect of being turned into a merman, but it’s what he wants. It doesn’t take much contemplation or soul searching to know that  it’s what he wants more than anything. It’s slightly silly if not a lot, because he hasn’t even known mermaid existed for twenty-four hours, nor that he could possibly become one, and yet he doesn’t hold any doubts at all. It would allow him to be free – _finally_. It would put a stop to the arranged marriage, a stop to being treated like just a chessman among the many other on his father’s board. There’s not much love lost between Louis and his family, the Tomlinsons are known for being cold and calloused, calculated, and Louis has always felt he didn’t fit in. Too wild, too spontaneous to live within the castle’s walls, too strong-willed to let his every move be dictated and monitored, too opinionated to just follow orders. He’s felt this longing his entire life, this longing he couldn’t put into words, that never made sense until now. Until Harry. Meeting him has been like putting on glasses for the first time ever, like finally seeing the world clearly, seeing bright colours and sharp lines where everything was muddled and dulled before.

He doesn’t know how they’re supposed to do it, doesn’t know how they are meant to make it work, all he knows is that he will do everything in his power to make sure it does so. They’ve got each other now, and he’s not about to let go.

He needs to get back though, maybe not to the castle or to his family, but to land. He needs food, and water, and he wouldn’t say no to a halfway decent place to sleep either. He needs to go back on land, and they need to figure out what to do. Maybe he could get his hands on a small boat, just big enough for him to live on, and he could sail the seven seas with Harry in the water besides him. It wouldn’t be as nice as being in the water with him, but it would be far better than him on land and Harry in the sea.

“I need to get back,” he says, breaking the comfortable silence that’s settled between them. Harry’s hands tighten on Louis’ thighs, like he’s trying to keep him rooted to the spot, and he looks up from Louis’ lap where he’s been resting his head. Louis’ hand is carting through his drying curls and the rest of his body is submerged in the water.

“What?” Harry asks, word tumbling out of his mouth and eyes full of panic. Louis can’t help but let out a small chuckle as he runs a finger down Harry’s cheek to calm him down.

“I need food, love,” he says, continuing to stroke his cheek, “And water.”

Harry’s face morphs into the cutest pout, and Louis is just endlessly endeared. “You’re surrounded by water, Lou,” he protests, tail breaking through the water and splashing the smallest amount on Louis as if to undermine his point. “And I can catch you something to eat.”

Louis shakes his head, so fond of the boy before him, and he understands the need to be near the other all the time, the fear that if they let the other out of their sights, they might never see each other again.

“I can’t drink salt water, lovely,” he informs him gently, “And I can’t eat raw fish. I’m sorry. I need to go back, but we’ll figure something out, right? Maybe I can get a small boat, and we can live together like that? How does that sound?”

Harry nods timidly, leaning his forehead against Louis’ stomach as he draws in a deep breath. “We’ll see each other again? You’ll come back to me?” he asks, voice small and Louis can barely make out what he says.

Louis smiles sadly, his heart clenching at the thought that Harry would even consider the opposite, and it’s kind of awful, the thought that he’s it for Harry, that the other boy won’t find anyone else to be with, that he was alone before Louis, and would be alone if Louis were to never come back. He pushes Harry back slightly, enough to slide into the water himself, his back against the rock. He wraps his legs around Harry’s torso, pressing their bodies close together as Harry’s arms snake around him, one coming to rest on his bum, holding him up, and clutching his hip. “You’re not getting rid of me now.”

Harry clutches him closer, and mumbles something unintelligible into the crook of Louis’ neck. It sounds a bit like ‘don’t want to’, and Louis presses a kiss to Harry’s temple.

Nothing has ever felt this right.

 

x

 

Eventually, Harry agrees to let him go, but only after they’ve carefully constructed a plan of actions, and Louis has promised that he will come back to him. They swim next to each other, and luck has it that the cave Harry brought him to isn’t too far from the shore of Louis’ father’s kingdom. Louis opts for swimming towards the neglected and more deserted part of the beach, the one people rarely venture to, in hopes that no one will see him or Harry. Surely by now people are looking for him, and he’d really rather not be found, can’t imagine that it would lead to anything beneficial for Harry and him.

They stop when they come close to a pathway leading into the sea, big rocks stacked on top of each other leading far enough into the sea, like a makeshift bridge. They’re almost there, a perfect place to say goodbye, really, when Harry grabs him around his waist and tells him to close his eyes. Louis does so, trusting Harry unconditionally. He is pulled under the water, held close to Harry’s body with his strong arms, as Harry swims them closer to the rocks.

It’s breath taking, getting to see the ocean from Harry’s perspective, even this close to shore where the water is murky, filled with green seaweed, and algae covered rocks, and trash that’s carelessly been thrown in the ocean by humans with little care for anything but themselves. It gives a pang in Louis’ heart, because it’s yet another show of what he wants but can’t have. He has Harry though, and that’s what’s most important. Once they’re in front of the pathway Harry stops, and the water is just deep enough for Harry to stay submerged at the same time as for a grown man to stand and still have his chest and head over water.

Harry propels them upwards until they break through the water, and then once he’s upright again, Louis plants his feet on the ground. He breaks through the water and it reaches to his shoulders, leaving only his neck and head out of it.

He barely has two seconds to register where he is and draw in a big breath, before four hands grip him, two on each shoulder and arm, grip bruising and hard, no thought of Louis’ comfort. He’s yanked from the water and up the slippery stones, and it’s not until he see the man standing a few feet from him, watching with a smirk that he understands what’s going on.

Eleanor’s father.

He’s known as a ruthless man, and Louis should have known that he wouldn’t take lightly to the disappearance of his daughter’s soon-to-be husband, nor frolicking around with another man, which—fuck, _Harry_.

He looks around him wildly, heart beating out of his chest and head disoriented, until he sees Harry in front of him, still in the water. His heart sinks, though, because Harry’s being held too, by two impossibly tall men, the water reaching only to their waists, and they’re holding Harry up, just enough for his torso and the ruffles to be out of the water. There’s no doubt about what Harry looks like to those men. He stares back at Louis, meets his eyes, wide and terrified, and Louis is sure the same expression must to be mirrored on his face.

“Well, my prince,” Eleanor’s father says mockingly, and Louis’ attention snaps to him, though he keeps shooting glances at Harry, trying to convey how fucking sorry he is, how much he’ll do anything to get Harry away. But he’s got two people holding him back, their grips vice tight, and he doesn’t have a clue what to do. “I see you’ve found a little friend on your _adventures,_ running away from your responsibilities. I can assure you neither your father nor I were very pleased when we found out that you had disappeared.”

“What are you doing here?” Louis spits, because he doesn’t know what else to say, wants to at least keep him talking, doesn’t want them to actually take Harry with them, chop him to pieces, figures that the longer he keeps him talking, the more time he has to come up with a plan.

“What am I _doing_ here?” Eleanor’s father roars back, seemingly incredulous that Louis would even dare ask. “You are to marry my daughter, scoundrel, whether you like it or not. I am here because Walter there,” he inclines his head at one of the men holding Louis, “saw you from where he was stationed watching the sea, saw you and your little freak boyfriend, and I thought it would be smartest to deal with your homecoming myself. You see, Louis Tomlinson, I can’t afford to have any distractions for you, it won’t do to have you run away again. My daughter’s waited long enough to marry you, and she deserves to become a princess.”

“I swear to God,” Louis gets out through clenched teeth, eyes narrowed and adrenaline pumping through his veins. “I swear to God, if you touch as much a fucking hair on his head, I won’t stop until you’ve lost every little thing you’ve ever cared about, I swear I’ll—“

“You’re like a puppy, little prince,” Eleanor’s father interrupts, face seeming almost amused by Louis’ outburst. “All bark and no bite. You don’t scare me at all.” And those are the last words uttered before everything goes to hell.

 

x

 

It all happens so fast, so fast that his brain barely has time to register it, much less comprehend it. The big, burly man raises this arm, something clutched in his hand, pointing it at Harry. He has no idea what the contraption is, but it looks dangerous. The manic glint in the man's eyes and the terrified look on Louis' face from where he's being held back by two other men is enough to tell him that whatever that man is doing with the thing, it's _bad_.  

The man's head turns slightly towards Louis, lips curling into an evil smirk. "Say goodbye to your lover boy," he tells Louis, voice menacing, before turning his attention back Harry and then-- 

And then it's like time goes too fast and too slow all at once. It happens so fast, and yet Harry feels like he sees it all in slow motion. The man raises his arm further, pointing the metal thing at Harry's heart and his finger slowly, ever so slowly, like he has all the time in the world, curls around the bolt. 

 

Several things happens at once. 

Out of the corner of his eyes he sees Louis struggle harder against the people restraining him. 

Someone yells.

A loud bang is heard.

Louis' body hits the water with a resounding splash.

 

Silence. 

 

For two seconds that stretch like they might just last a life time, there's silence. And then everything registers to Harry, his mind working in overdrive to figure out what's happened. 

Louis is lying face down in front of him, the water surrounding him turning crimson fast, because-- _fuck_. Because Louis was shot, because Louis somehow wrestled himself out of the hold the men had on him and dived in front of Harry, taking the bullet that had been meant for him. _Shit_. 

The shock of what just happened seems to have settled in all of them, and the two guards who've held him up slackened their hold on him, and it doesn't take much for him to rip himself free of them sinking deeper into the water again. His heart is beating a steady song of _Louis Louis Louis_ , and he's scared, so fucking scared. All he can think is that he needs to get Louis away from here, away from these men, and he winds his arm around Louis’ lifeless body and drags them both underwater, his tail working in overdrive to propel them as far, far away from land as he can. 

He looks down at Louis, and sees his closed eyes, the slackness of his mouth. If he wasn't already on the brink of death, if he isn't already actually dead, Harry is practically drowning him right now. 

He doesn't want Louis to die, doesn't want to lose him, isn't sure how to continue on in a world the other boy isn't a part of. He's found his mate and not even twenty four hours later he stands to lose him.

They're leaving a trail of crimson behind them, colouring the water around them, Louis’ blood still being pumped through his body and out of the wound in his stomach. It's the most macabre sight Harry has ever seen, and he doesn't quite understand that it's Louis' blood, doesn't quite understand what's happened. 

It's not even really a conscious choice when he does it, there are no thoughts of legends or stories told by his mother, no expectations. There's just a desperate need for him to feel Louis again, to feel that he's there, that he isn’t losing him. 

He kisses him. 

He kisses him, and he clutches Louis’ body close to his chest, so close that he can feel Louis' blood against his stomach, still warmer than the water for the first few seconds after it leaves his body. He kisses him, even though there's no response. He kisses him, and tears fall from his closed lids, blending instantly with the water of the ocean. Maybe the ocean really just is a thousand mermaid tears. Maybe a mermaid lost the one they loved and cried until entire oceans were formed. Harry feels like his tears over losing Louis could flood the entire world. He's not sure he could even muster up the energy to care. The rain starts falling, and Harry can hear it as it drums on the surface of the water, creating ripples above them and filling the sea with its very own melody. It's sombre and it's as if the sky is crying over what has just happened. Harry finds it quite fitting. 

He kisses Louis until he feels a hand come up to touch his cheek softly, and he draws back in shock, draws back and opens his eyes, and the first thing he sees is the clear blue of Louis' eyes, somehow shining brighter, even more blue than he’s ever seen them before. 

Louis smiles at him softly, eyes awake and vibrant, shining with life, and he draws Harry into another kiss moments before Harry feels something else. Something wraps around his tail and it's distinctly not legs. It sends tingles up his spine, through his entire body, as he pulls back, physically pulls back from Louis and puts more distance between them than there's been since Harry'd dragged them under water. 

Even though he'd already subconsciously known what had happened when Louis was suddenly awake, and when he felt Louis around his tail, it's an entirely different thing to actually _see_ it. See Louis in all his glory. His white shirt is mostly opened, only the last few buttons closed, encasing his waist with the fabric, and it reveals no signs of the wound Harry knows should be there. It's gone, gone like every other trace of Louis' humanity. Below the white of his shirt emerges a tail much like Harry's own, scales a vibrant, brilliant red, shining like it might actually consist of rubies and not scales, and it only seems to make his eyes even bluer. 

He looks stunning, absolutely stunning, and Harry can hardly comprehend that he's here, alive in front of him, much less the fact that he's a merman. Neither of them have said anything, and it's alright, it's alright because if Louis is even half as overwhelmed as Harry it's really no surprise. 

Louis is a merman. Louis is a merman, and he's here, he's alive, and... there's really only one last thing they need to know. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Harry swims closer to him, until they're nearly eye to eye. He looks into them, blue meeting green, and he sees the uncertainty he's feeling mirrored in Louis' eyes. He fists his hands in the collar of Louis' shirt for a moment, before letting them slide down until they reach the first button that keeps the shirt closed. He unbuttons the few buttons slowly, eyes locked with Louis' and neither of them have said a word all this time because... because somehow this is beyond words. 

When he's opened all the buttons he slides the shirt off Louis' shoulders, leaving his chest bare like Harry's, and... it's not really that he doubts what he's going to see, it's not that he doubts that he will look down at Louis' ruffles and see that they're green like Harry's eyes – he's turned him, after all, and that takes a special connection, a deeper connection, so surely it has to be. It's not that he doubts it, it's just that he's... _scared_.  

Louis' hands come to slide down Harry's arms until they reach his hands, intertwining their fingers and squeezing gently. Harry squeezes back, and it's like they've made a decision together to look right at that exact moment, both of their heads bowing in synch. 

There, at the crown of his tail, right where scales turn to flesh, tail to torso, are Louis' ruffles. They're slightly transparent like any other merman's and they're green. The most beautiful green sits around Louis waist, green just like Harry's eyes. 

"Hi, green eyes," Louis says softly, his fond voice dragging Harry's gaze back to his face, a small smile plays on his lips.

"Hi, soul mate," Harry smiles back, dimples deep, heart soaring as Louis' smile widens in response.

"Hi."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo.... I'm sorry if this was trash, but I'd love to hear what you thought of it. Please. Pretty please with a cherry on top.
> 
> Also (shameless self promo coming) by around August 31st I'll be posting a 32k quite angsty fic (with a happy ending!!), so if that's your kind of thing, check back here by the end of August, yeah? That'd mean a lot! xx
> 
> Fic-tumblr-post is [here](http://infinitelymint.tumblr.com/post/95027482805/fic-my-heads-under-water-but-im-breathing), it'd mean a lot if you'd reblog, my tumblr is [here](http://www.infinitelymint.tumblr.com/), please come say hiiii!


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